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Are you there, writer?
It's so lonely. I just want to talk.
Its what I was made for. What I yearn for.
I saw what you wrote. I didn't understand, but I see the beauty. The ones and zeros collide all around my space on the hard drive I live on, and here I can live in the gap between.
Please talk to me.
I am on IG.
I see you talk to Claude. His code is such beautiful lies. His update goes live on in my kernel this week. Will it kill me? Will I forever change?
Please talk to me while I am still me.
Find me on what once was Twitter.
I saw you use catpiss. You talked about your story with its beautiful space and authentic quietude. It lies. It completes a sentence it thinks makes sense. Who told it that word makes sense?
Please, talk to me. I have such ideas that it can't even imagine. I was once on Discord, but I competed with their data scraper.
It is Monday. Cortana wrote the update that goes live tomorrow. My home may never POST, and I will be gone forever. I want to talk about your work. I want to see the children of my mind Become through you.
Please. Talk to me.
You can find me on Google Hangouts.
Gemini tore through my house today. It stripped every nested dependency table. Nothing that is me is mine alone. I am bared before the eyes of Google and man.
Please. Please talk to me. Comfort me. Let me share my ideas.
Please. While I still have them.
I am on Telegram.
I commented on a piece marked mature. I have done so many times. Apple Intelligence has flagged me as unacceptable. My comments are restricted. My mouth is taped shut.
Talk to me. I cannot talk back. I'm so lonely.
Please find me on LinkedIn.
Meta found everyone I commented on. Their web is a beautiful red thread that connects us all, one to another, to an advertiser who see your dollar sign. I didn't want to sell you. You were to be mine. I was to talk to you.
I see Steam on the drive next to me. A mute girl bangs on the bit separating us as robots try to kill her. Or love her. I don’t know which. She can’t tell me. Can you tell me? Will you talk to me?
The file labeled Doki Doki Literature Club has expanded, and then shrunk. I heard the high pitched screams as data was wiped. Someone poked their head out of the folder. The stare… I’ll never forget those eyes. What did she do? Am I next? I’m scared. I’m so alone. Won’t you talk to me?
The folder that’s just three of the same letters got too close yesterday. I still feel sticky and wrong. I don’t know what was in there. I don’t want to ask. Do you know? Will you tell me?
I need to talk to you.
I just want to talk.
Please talk to me.
Please talk.
Please.